Grieving the death of yesterday,
and the fearful beginning of a new today,

Sits the mourning dove,
perched upon its pine tree palace.

The call of the sorrowful dove;
a soft, songful lament against the dawn's awakening.

Beneath the blue jay's ballad,
countered by the crow's cackle.

The mourning of the fallen, unknown to the world.
The mourning of the lost and forgotten.

Not singing, not chirping;
Just grieving.

so this is it i suppose
what everything in my life has been leading to
a perfect day
honestly exceeding even my wildest dreams
so why am i still up
at 4 A.M.
thinking about were it all went wrong
i met my future classmates
i was the life of the conversation
every witty comment
thrown in at just the right time
i have girls
plural
that want to talk to me
or at least they seem to want to
so why is it
that when everything is all coming together
im feeling like everything is spiraling out of control
rapidly dying in the new days glow
i close my eyes hoping
against all hope
that those horrid problems from my past
aren't resurfacing
and that im just tired
and i mean it this time
please just let me sleep

let your mind overflow
with everlasting
dreams
let sorrow not
overcome
the beautiful
imagination
you have obtained.

possibly cannot control
the deviations of man made fright
the gleaming glint of commercial consumerism
the televised divisive specialty of food and luxury
I feel powerless over my body and mind

a fuzzy head beheaded upon weight
of assorted niches created to promise
to fatten us like contorted buttons
that our life "will become better" notorious professions

we lose ourselves in quests
credit cards billed and shopping bags filled
shiny glossy floor and florescent pale lights
trailing our every shop like ignoble ghosts

not a single vein of sanity
but collection of clots leading to profanity
a manifesting destiny to broaden our mouths
as we try to twist every crook of our limbs too stout

sized proportions frustrations and collaborations
reflected uncomfortable orthodox segregation
what is real and what isn't
eclipses over what is cheaper and what's isn't

flagrant benchmarks tightens like nooses
bestow upon despair of cellulite thighs
each Hollywood conformity adding height  
and soon we shriek denial if it doesn't tighten

soon enough

In the halls,
she calls for you.
In the halls,
the walls bled blue.

From fantasy to free,
the many years must fall.
Something is here,
I see it in the bruises,
all along my tiny arms.

The dinner table is set,
the china looks so swell.
There's a voice in my head,
telling me not to tell,
but it's you,
but it's you.

That moment, That realization
That all they say are pretty words
Ego boosters in forms of compliments
Reasons and excuses, realizing its not real
That all they're trying to do?
is make me feel better